


a rainy night in soho

by edgarallennope



Series: Good Omens ficlets [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alcohol, Christmas, Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Insecure Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Slow Dancing, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 01:13:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20282947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgarallennope/pseuds/edgarallennope
Summary: “I mean...well I...a-angels can’t really dance.” He replied, his cheeks turning red.“Neither can demons, really. We just do. It’s fun.”A songfic based on "A Rainy Night In Soho" by The Pogues. Crowley and Aziraphale stumble their way through a slow dance on a very drunk Christmas Eve night.





	a rainy night in soho

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for all the love on my last fic! This one is a little sloppy, but I had to get it down. Best read with this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSyL-TrD_2g . Enjoy!

It was December 24th, 1991, but in favour of a white Christmas it was pissing down with rain.

It was unclear really what an angels role was for the occasion; after all, it wasn’t  _ really  _ the day that the son of God had been born, but Aziraphale supposed everyone had universally forgotten and the date had been taken from an old Pagan festival, because Lord knows the Pagans aren't allowed to enjoy anything.

Either way, he was indulging in his annual tradition; getting absolutely sozzled, more often than not with Crowley. The two of them were splayed out on the musty old sofa in the bookshop, passing back and forth their third bottle of wine, giggling over a joke they had both already forgotten.

“What I was saying,” Crowley gasped out, trying to compose himself, “What I was  _ saying,  _ is that surely  _ someone  _ should have corrected the mortals about the date of the bloody  _ Son Of God’s birthday _ .” He said, dissolving into fits of laughter again.

“I know, I know,” Aziraphale replies, wiping tears from his eyes. “but at least...at least now he could a present for both Christmas  _ and  _ his birthday.” He mused.

“I mean, that tosser Gabriel was  _ there,  _ you think he would have something to say about it.”

“Yes, I suppose he was wasn’t he? The guiding star.”

“Giving Shephards and the like heart attacks, ‘come over, baby about to be born, chop chop, bring gifts.’”

“Well I suppose as long as people know he was there, he doesn’t so much mind if they don’t know the when.” Aziraphale muttered. 

He swung his legs round to sit upright, pausing as his head spun, and ambled his way over to the radio to turn on to the only station that  _ wasn’t  _ playing Christmas music (all of Heaven would be playing it all through December anyways, after all.) An Irish song began to play through the speakers, something by The Pogues, and Aziraphale nodded in contentment.

“Oh, these guys are great,” Crowley said, expressing his approval. He got up and made his way over, placing a hand on Aziraphale’s back as he came to stand by the radio. The hairs on the back of the angel's neck stood up, as he shivered at the sudden contact.

_ I've been loving you a long time _

_ Down all the years, down all the days _

_ And I've cried for all your troubles _

_ Smiled at your funny little ways _

His breath caught in his throat. A little  _ too  _ appropriate, he worried. He didn’t dare look over to Crowley, and the demon didn’t remove his hand from Aziraphale’s back. Truthfully, Aziraphale had  _ always  _ loved Crowley, despite how often he had tried to deny it to himself, and, more regretfully, to Crowley. A sort of heavenly guilt ate away at him whenever he thought about Crowley, and his heart skipped a beat at every hint of contact and every small smile. It wasn’t as if Crowley would love him back anyway, not after how awfully he had behaved to him.

“Angel,” Crowley murmured, leaning into Aziraphale’s ear. “Would you like to dance with me?” Aziraphale hesitated.

“I mean...well I...a-angels can’t really dance.” He replied, his cheeks turning red.

“Neither can demons, really. We just do. It’s fun.”

“Fun?” Aziraphale had had fun learning the Gavotte, and indeed had enjoyed doing it, but dancing as a whole proved stressful for him; he was never quite sure what to do with his body. He felt Crowley’s smile at his ear, and the demon moved around so he was facing him, and entwined one of his hands with the angels.

“I’ll show you.”

_ We watched our friends grow up together _

_ And we saw them as they fell _

_ Some of them fell into Heaven _

_ Some of them fell into Hell _

Crowley led him to the middle of the room, the biggest clearing that could be found in the cluttered shop, and they just stood there, holding each other, stumbling back and forth in a faint mockery of a four by four waltz. Aziraphale kept his eyes trained to the floor on his feet, terrified that he would accidentally step onto Crowley. They were both still quite drunk, and finding the rhythm was proving to be somewhat difficult.

“Keep your eyes up.” Crowley softly instructed. Aziraphale’s eyes shot up, worried he had done something wrong. “Don’t worry too much about what your feet are doing, no one’s watching us. Just enjoy it, Angel.” 

“Okay. This...this is okay?” He asked, anxiously. Crowley smiled softly, wrapping his arm around the angel just a little tighter.

“That’s perfect, ‘Zira. You’re doing great.”

_ I took shelter from a shower _

_ And I stepped into your arms _

_ On a rainy night in Soho _

_ The wind was whistling all its charms _

Aziraphale’s breath faltered. Now, this was just getting  _ ridiculous _ . Had Crowley met The Pogues? Oh, what kind of a question was that, of course he had. He let his mind wander back to Eden, stood atop the wall as the first storm brewed up above. It had seemed so natural at the time to shelter Crowley from the rain, but now he wondered if the action had been the beginning of something more. He hazarded another glance at the demon, to find he was looking right at him, his eyes tender and soft. 

They both pondered the lyric together, looking outside at the rain pouring down in Soho, and slowly they began to laugh, and then they began to laugh louder, and Aziraphale pressed his head firmly against Crowley’s as he spun them around the room, keeping a tight hold. Miraculously he was even able to stay upright. 

It felt so natural, to be this close to the demon that he loved, just the two of them shut away from the rest of the world. If he could have spun with him for eternity, he would have. 

[ _ Sometimes I wake up in the morning _ ](https://genius.com/The-pogues-a-rainy-night-in-soho-lyrics#note-6488801)

[ _ The ginger lady by my bed _ ](https://genius.com/The-pogues-a-rainy-night-in-soho-lyrics#note-6488801)

_ Covered in a cloak of silence _

_ I hear you talking in my head _

“S’pose that’s me, isn’t it?” Crowley asked. “Your ginger lady. Well, sometimes a lady. Depends on the day, really.” He staggered a little, as he realised exactly what he had said. “Angel, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No!” Aziraphale replied, a little too quickly. “No, no it’s okay.” Crowley pulled back and looked him in the eyes, his golden ones filled with so much raw emotion and vulnerability that it stole Aziraphale’s breath.

“It is?”

“Yes, it is.” Crowley nodded slowly.

“I’m still drunk.” He said, slowly.

“Yes, I am too.”

“But the thing is… I feel like this when I’m  _ not  _ drunk too.” Aziraphale’s heart beat louder and louder in his chest.

“Yes, my dear, I’m afraid I do too.” Crowley nodded, looking like he was trying to solve a particularly complicated maths problem.

“Well. What are we going to do about that?”

Before Aziraphale even realised what he was doing, before he even thought about what a bad idea it all was and how  _ very not allowed  _ even the  _ thought  _ of it is, and what on earth they would do when the morning came, he was kissing him.

_ I'm not singing for the future _

_ I'm not dreaming of the past _

_ I'm not talking of the first time _

_ I never think about the last _

The kiss, very much like their attempt at dancing, was sloppy at best, clumsy and desperate at worst. They had stopped moving in time to the music, and now just stood, holding each other tight, eyes shut and completely lost in each other. When they pulled away, Aziraphale felt breathless. He looked at Crowley, who was similarly dazed and completely awestruck.

“Crowley? Darling, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Aziraphale was cut off as Crowley pulled him in again, kissing him softly and sweetly. The music reached it’s heavenly crescendo, but from where he was it felt very distant. The shop was just a room that was built around a universe that Crowley and Aziraphale were making with their love for each other, finally free after so many years. Crowley pulled away again and rested his forehead against Aziraphale’s.

“I’m so sorry.” Aziraphale whispered. “For everything I ever said, for the things I called you, for rejecting your kindness for so long-”

“Don’t.” Crowley replied. “Don’t, you have nothing at all to be sorry for. And even if you do, I’ve already forgiven you.”

“Heaven isn’t going to be happy about this, if they find out.”

“Hell won’t be either.”

“I guess...I guess they won’t then. Find out, that is.” 

Crowley nodded, and smiled, pressing another kiss firmly to Aziraphale’s forehead, spinning him around again in his arms, as the angel laughed and tried to keep up.

“Merry Christmas, Aziraphale.”

“Merry Christmas, Crowley.”

_ Now this song is nearly over _

_ We may never find out what it means _

_ Still there's a light I hold before me _

_ You're the measure of my dreams _

_ The measure of my dreams _

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know how I did!


End file.
